Me and Alec Baldwin. . .

I've never been thrown off an airplane for doing it, but I have to admit that I am also addicted.

I play Words With Friends on my iphone and find myself staring at that little screen at all sorts of odd times, like standing on the check-out line at Publix, between tram tours at Fairchild Gardens, and while watching a Netflix movie at night with the "significant other". Words are my business, the written kind that is, and I admit it, I am a vicious competitor.

And speaking of the "significant other", ever since I downloaded the Words app on his iphone, we've had a serious difference of opinion about the rules of the game. Benard feels it is poor sportsmanship on my part when I trump him with a triple score word. I tell him he shouldn't make it so easy for me to do so. Poor guy. . he also gets beaten regularly by his daughter Paula. If this keeps up, he may need psychotherapy soon.

I play regularly with four or five other people, all with very different lifestyles, but all seriously competitive. Some I beat. Some beat me.Some it's about even.

They range from Mario, the head of Reading Services at WLRN where I read every Tuesday morning, to Jon, the husband of my daughter's half sister who last week played from Korea where he was on tour as the sound engineer for John Legend. (Jon doesn't let a little thing like a change of continents get in the way of his Word games.) In between are two or three women friends, including my good friend Merele, best described as "one tough cookie" wordwise and,of course,the often disgruntled "significant other".

In addition to the fun of competition, the game has added significantly to my already pretty extensive vocabulary. Take the word "qi". . .very handy when you have the letter "q" on your board and no "u" to make a normal word. According to Google, it has Chinese roots and means "part of every living thing". And you thought I was just wasting my time playing games.

By the way, my user name is JoanSpec, and I warn you, I give no quarter. Ask my daughter. She refuses to play with me any more. I may have to let Benard win this current game we're playing or I'm possibly in danger of losing him as well. Then who would cook dinner???
# # #

My Mom's writing gene. . the gift that keeps on giving.

I find myself writing about some strange subjects these days in my "semi-retirement" role as a freelance writer. Would-be clients find me on my website, www.joanspector.com, or on something called Thumbtack.com that I apparently signed up for one day and forgot all about.

As a result, I end up researching or using my imagination about businesses and subjects that I never heard of, or at the very least, know absolutely nothing about.

Example: I just completed writing a website for a company that paints commercial and corporate airplanes. Who knew that was such a world-wide business? And I bet you don't know the industry term for the designs you see on the outside of the next plane you fly on. I certainly didn't, but God bless Google! What would we do without it! I had to write one whole web page on the company's ability to do outstanding "LIVERY". It took a quick visit to Google to learn all about the use of that esoteric term when describing the overall paint design of an airplane.

Here's my new favorite. . a 30-something young man, with a wife and two children, in need of a "personal statement" for his application to law school. I interviewed him over the phone and came to understand how important these 500 words could be for his future. I'm sure he will pardon me for allowing you to read the first graph of what I wrote.

As a 14 year old in May of 1994, I, along with three members of my immediate family and seven others, found ourselves clinging to a capsized raft in the choppy waters of the Caribbean, somewhere between the coast of Cuba and the tip of South Florida. Rescued by the U.S. Coast Guard, we were taken to Guantanamo Naval Base where we lived for six months before making our way finally to the United States in January of 1995..

I made him promise to let me know when the law school accepts him.
# # #
# # #

Internet - 1, Joan - 0

There is nothing so humbling as a computer that refuses to do what you instruct it to do.

I guess I am a victim of th generation gap, even if I try not to be. My experience this week with trying to rid myself of AOL and changing over to gmail.com has revealed a definite gap. . call it an abyss. . in my technological rapport. My grandson would be ashamed of me, but yesterday I cried "Uncle" and begged Jose, my tech guy, to give me back my old Desktop and my old accounts.

My moment of truth came when I realized that the changeover had lost my address books, or at the least, I could no longer locate them. That included my "blog friends" list . . .that's all you guys. . .and my business list that I needed to support my website. That made me more than a little frantic since I was in the middle of writing a website for a new client.

In trying to get back my address books, I managed to somehow erase the tool bar on my Explorer website so that I could no long interact with my Morgan Stanley portfolio or my Bank of America account, making it impossible for me to pay my bills on line.

In retrospect, the message I left on Jose's phone was pretty pathetic. Basically, I begged him to put me back in my comfort zone. Obviously, he answered my call, because here I am.

I know. I know. Having AOL dates me. So be it. Call me dated. I'm a happy camper once again and I don't think I'll be making any changes in the near future, so no nasty comments please.

Have some respect for my advanced age! (OMG! Did I just say that???)
# # #